


constellations

by rathxritter



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-06-10 12:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 79
Words: 13,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19503199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rathxritter/pseuds/rathxritter
Summary: Fitz and Simmons in an unimaginably vast ensemble of parallel universes.A collection of true drabbles for AoSficnet's July challenge.





	1. “Stop hogging all the blankets!”

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.

“Fitz!”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Stop hogging all the blankets!”  
  
His reply is muffled and unintelligible, something about summer and closing the windows. Just as she’s about to get up, Fitz moves his body closer to hers and rearranges the duvet, covering them both.  
  
“Fitz!”  
  
“Not again.” He pauses. “Just go to sleep, Jemma.”  
  
“I just wanted to tell you that I could get used to this. Waking up and going to sleep beside you, the best part of my day happening as soon as I open my eyes,” she says and kisses him softly. “I love you. Good night.”  
  
“Love you too.”


	2. "I wish I’d never met you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

“My colours are in the mud, they’re calling me a hypocrite,” he tells her as they walk down the street in the dying glow. His regret is palpable, vivid, oozing through every syllable as he goes on and says, “I wish I’d never met you.”  
  
Panic and tears! She cannot blame him, but there’s a real, sharp pain at her heart - the thought of Fitz leaving unbearable. Two possibilities, equally balanced: their happiness either doubled or completely obliterated.  
  
“Publicly supporting a referendum to abolish the monarchy and then mingling with you, Princess Jemma Simmons, first in line to the throne. People take me to be a fool, I’m coming round to their opinion.”  
  
“Do you mean you’ve made your decision?”  
  
Fitz nods. “We’ve got everything to lose… But I’ll make sure that at least one couple gets out of it happy and together.”  
  
“You mean us?”  
  
“No, you and uncle Tom Cobley.” He laughs. At last! Months of agony coming to an end. “Of course I mean us.”  
  
“Oh, my dear. I’ve waited so long to hear those words…” She places her hand on his cheek. “So, would you like to overthrow the current King of England?”


	3. "I don’t need you anymore!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's angsty.
> 
> unbeta'd.

“But why?”  
  
“Because I don’t need you anymore!” said Jemma, her voice was now a raising crescendo - loud, faltering, almost squeaky.  
  
The knot at the back of her throat tightened as she looked at him. There, standing in the golden sunlight, was the man she liked, the man she loved. Tears in her eyes, the entire world now appeared blurry and watery, and a sharp pain at her heart, but it had to be done. It had to!  
  
She was letting him go. It was inevitable, for he had spent years telling her that managing a country estate was hardly his dream. There was so much more to life than that! And now a job offer: oh, she knew everything about it. She wanted him to accept it for it would set him free at last. Free of a life he didn’t like, free to move back to Scotland. Dreams coming true at last, he’d be a fool to let this chance slip though his fingers.  
  
“Jemma-” He paused, exhaling sharply. “I thought we-”  
  
“I can’t be sure! Of you or anything else it seems.”  
  
She could because what did they have? Nothing much at all: all they had was a couple of stolen moments and plenty of unspoken words.  
  
“To make that sound convincing, you’d have to be a good liar, Jemma. Are you a good liar?”  
  
“Not good enough to try apparently.” She paused. “Wish me luck, Fitz. God knows I wish the best for you.”  
  
As he walked away, down the pebbled path in the summer’s dusk, all she could think of was to run after him and explain, but she didn’t. Instead, she stood there in silence, too convinced of being in the right to follow that sweet and irresistible impulse.


	4. "I'm so in love with you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

The whole world was in mourning all around them, and they had this: second chances, forgiveness, love.

"I love you so much," said Fitz as he took another mouthful of iced cake.

"I say, are you talking to me or to that cake?" asked Jemma, turning around to face him. Strains of hair had escaped her hairdo and were now framing her face, dancing in the soft breeze and giving her a dishevelled look that rather suited her.

"To the cake, obviously." He paused, trying to maintain some seriousness. "For this cake didn't refuse to elope with me to Gretna Green. You did."

"And I'm sure that that piece of cake doesn't care that in 1854 Scottish law was changed to require twenty-one days' residence for marriage. Besides, sneaking off like a thief in the night just isn't the way, Fitz. Everyone knows that."

"You know, I feel like I swallowed a box of fireworks." He paused. "I'm so in love with you, Jemma."

She laughed and reached for his hand, holding it tightly. Then, she said, "I should hope so, it would certainly be a frightful sell if you weren't. After all, we are getting married in two weeks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The residential requirement was lifted in 1977.


	5. “There was never an us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set in [this verse.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19253923)
> 
> unbeta’d.  
> 

"How do you do?" she asked as she stood in front of him, a sad smile on her face.

Fitz opened his mouth. For months he had been thinking about telling her everything about the war: the Christmas Truce, such a glorious display of humanity; The incredible amount of explosives armies threw at each other, shells making a continuous noise, breaking apart and whistling, hurtling through the air, screaming, coming with a crescendo, faster, louder and louder. Now, however, self-preservation seemed to beat honesty as he found himself reluctant to talk about it - lest the horror came back, staining this part of his life.

"I have to go back in three days. Jemma," he said, his voice faltering, trembling, and barely audible. How to continue? He had to tell her _there is no us!_ Harsh and untrue words that would set her free, the urge to speak them was all but irresistible. There was no them because there was no future. No future and hope and no way to die either.

Hot tears started to run down his cheeks, mixing with snot - not at all like he had rehearsed it. The world blurred and watery, Jemma's figure barely distinguishable. A loud sob. "There's... I..."

She cupped his cheek, her skin cold against his, and said, "Fitz. Look at me."

Her hand took his, guiding his arm around her waist, encouraging him to hold her. He mirrored her actions with a sense of doom and desperation, urgently, as if his entire life depended on it, until their bodies close, dovetailed together - right and slightly inevitable. His head buried in the crook of her neck, his tears wetting her skin, his armour cracking and crumbling as he let himself go.

"Fitz, this part of you... Don't let the war destroy it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Christmas Truce was a series of widespread but unofficial and impromptu ceasefires along the Western Front of World War I around Christmas 1914 (month 5 of 51).


	6. "Why do you hate me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Why do you hate me, Jemma?" he whispered, looking at her. He felt as if he was suffocating, the tie like a noose around his neck. "What did I ever do to you to deserve to be dragged into this circus."

He gestured vaguely at the crowd of people around them, sitting at the table in their best evening dress. An emotionally constipated bunch who lived in a cocoon of wealth and didn't care about anything or anyone other than themselves, completely out of touch with reality. It had been entertaining at first, but then conversation had started to degenerate and had turned to universities - it was only fair that people who left Oxbridge with a third got more recognition and jobs than those who managed to get a first at second-rate universities. That remark he had taken personally.

"It would have been odd to turn up at a family dinner without my fiancé-"

"You're being selfish," he replied, aggressively taking apart the salmon tartar in his plate.

"And you're being dramatic. This is nothing, there's plenty of stories I could tell you about the aristocracy and their filthy ways."

Shouting interrupted their banter, just as he was about to ask her to leave early - they'd have the next three courses to come up with a decent lie, distracting them. He saw Jemma's cousin stand up triumphantly, his flute of champagne raised, about to make a speech. If only the floor could swallow him whole.

"Sweat on the palms, that's envy. They all think they hate us," said the man, former Bullingdon Club member. Filthy. Rich. Spoiled. Rotten. "They say don't like us! Liars, they fucking love us."

Fitz reached for his glass of wine, took a long sip, turned back to Jemma and whispered, "Will someone please save these people from themselves?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bullingdon Club is an exclusive all-male dining club for Oxford University undergraduates,and is noted for its wealthy members, grand banquets, boisterous rituals and destructive behaviour (the trashing of restaurants and students' rooms). Former members include David Cameron and Boris Johnson.


	7. "I hate you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Jemma, do you trust me?"

She stared at him, baffled and bewildered.

"Do you trust me?" he asked again.

Surely he was taking the piss, questioning her loyalties and insinuating doubts. The question that was too silly and preposterous; were they not friends? Wasn't it obvious?

"More than anyone else."

"Not good enough, you've missed the mark again."

"I hate you," she said. "I hate you."

"I hate you too." Fitz laughed. Then he picked up his coat from the chair and made his way to the door only to stop immediately. "Come on, we've got a story to write."


	8. "Will you marry me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Will you marry me?" she asks abruptly, the words come out unexpectedly although the question itself has been on the tip of her tongue for weeks.

For a moment there's stillness and silence as her words linger in the air between them and settle in, then Fitz turns around and looks at her with his mouth half opened. You look like a fish, she wants to tell him, you should close your mouth before a fly gets in. A familiar sense of levity making up for such strange intensity and gravity, but it won't do.

"I love you and for the last couple of years... I thought I'd ask," she adds.

But it's more than that. It's time and it feels right and slightly inevitable: They've eased into change and she feels ready to take the next step, she wants to take the next step. Her best friend, from the very first moment... as if pushed by a carpenter's vice.

"I'm sorry, I-"

She tries not to panic as her thoughts go staccato. A frightful sell. "Oh-"

"No!"

"Fitz-"

"No, I mean yes! A thousand times yes!" He pauses, taking her hand. "I do want to marry you."


	9. "Let's run away"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

Sunday, late afternoon, the two of them lying in bed in the dying glow. They unofficially lived together now, Jemma certainly spent more time at his flat than she did in her room, something that still felt incredible and surreal.

"Let's run away together," he said, before kissing her again. Languid actions, his hand cupping her cheek. All these months and he still couldn't believe their luck. "Let's get married, let's spend the rest of our lives together."

"You mean the two of us should elope?"

A wild runaway marriage: Jemma, an English heiress who worked as nurse, and him, a journalist from Glasgow who vouched for Home Rule. His mother, already angry for having taken Jemma to Glasgow without having any real plan, would certainly stop speaking to him; as for Jemma's parent- he didn't dare to imagine their reaction, though her grandmother would no doubt ask for the smelling salts.

A wild runaway marriage: no fuss from either of their families. He knew that it was better to marry in broad daylight instead of starting their lives under a black shadow even though they had nothing to hide or to be ashamed of.

A wild runaway marriage: the thought was as alluring and tempting as it was preposterous.

He nodded. "I, for one, think that Gretna Green would be perfect."

"Elope? Sneak off like two thieves in the night?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Everything. Besides, in 1854 Scottish law was changed to require twenty-one days' residence for marriage, which makes your plan rather flawed."

"You really are a spoilsport."

"And you're not very well informed, so it's technically your fault." She laughed, her entire body shaking.

"Is it now? I think you know too many things about Gretna Green's marriage requirements not to have considered eloping at least once."


	10. "Don't leave me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd

Outside the storm was breaking out in all its intensity: lightning exploded, thunder rolled and rumbled, and wind howled though the buildings. Rain hitting against the windows relentlessly while Fitz was sitting at the end of Jemma's bed, barely visible in the darkness, and Jemma herself was lying there, crying, her tears mixing with snot.

"Can I look now?" asked Fitz.

"No. Yes." She sobbed, her entire body shaking. "No."

She wiped her tears away and blew her nose, crumpling her handkerchief and throwing it on the floor.

"Okay, now you can. He said... He said, that the only thing I care about is work and you."

He had also told her that if she loved Fitz so much that she couldn't stop talking about him for half a minute, she should try telling him that instead of wasting everyone else's time. She couldn't find the courage to tell Fitz about those harsh and angry words that bore some truth in them, too afraid of his reaction: it would look like a game of second bests and Fitz deserved better than that.

She went on, "And then dumped me, just storming out of the café and... Everyone was staring at us, Fitz! What a mortifying experience."

"What a twat," replied Fitz as he got up. "A real arse, just forget about him."

"Please don't leave me," she whispered, sounding more desperate than she wanted.

"I'm not, Jemma."

His shoes landed on the floor with a loud thud, ungallantly dismissed and already forgotten. Then, his soft steps on the wooden floor before he reached her bed and said, "Make some space, will you?"

The whole mattress rocked like a boat as Jemma shifted to the side and he crawled between the covers. Their bodies close.

"I'm not leaving you. Not now, not ever."


	11. "I'm dying."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: major character death.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

Slipping in and out of reality, feverish and delirious, his entire body aching.

"I'm dying," he tells her from the bed, eyes closing, blood on the bandages around his chest. They're lucky, he thinks, to have this, to be granted time to be honest and live.

"Don't be ridiculous Fitz."

Jemma's hand on his cheek, her skin clean and fresh. Such a gentle and loving touch, familiar down to the last detail.

"I love you. I miss you," he admits. All of this isn't enough anymore, a joke, such small compensation compared to a lifetime spent together: marriage, he never asked her to marry him, and now he doesn't have enough strength to do it. His eyelids close and he slips away. One last look. Whistling airplanes, roaring and coming closer. Jemma doesn't seem to bother about them.

Darkness. Letters pressed against his chest, held together by a ruined string, the edges are coming apart. A trembling flame in front of him.

"Bit too much noise, guv'nor." The voice is distant, like an echo, oddly familiar. A memory, no doubt turning into a nightmare - they hardly leave him alone. Dunkirk, long excruciating days, waiting for evacuation. The bodies, the airplanes, the beach and the smell of blood and salt, not a single drop of water to be found.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, stretching his arm out but finding nothing but air."Jemma?"

"Christ, you look rough."

"I'm fine," says Fitz. A cough. Sharp pain. To take her in his arms, love her, marry her, resume and enjoy what's left. "I've always kept you waiting, but enough of that. I promise. You won't hear another word." He mumbles, the words sound foreign, incomprehensible as if he's not the one articulating them, and closes his eyes.

Out of one realm, into another.


	12. “Of course I remembered!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"This," says Fitz. "I like it. I cannot believe you remembered."

What a preposterous idea, thinking that she's been too busy packing to remember him or something as simple as this. Fond memories, she remembers buying that book on a rainy day years ago - the memory as clear as on the day it was made.

"Of course I remembered!" She pauses, looking at him. A sharp pain at her heart at the thought of letting him go, they'll see each other again and hear from each other as often as possible, but the imminent departure is bittersweet. "We've had a great time, a riot, haven't we?"

"The very best," he agrees. "And we will again. We will."

She watches him as he turns the old battered book in his hands. Yellow pages with plenty of notes and post-its, the book has never looked more like a medieval manuscript filled with glosses. Messages to each other, jokes, some postcards. Pieces of paper too, with ripped corners and fading ink. And now, at the very end, a letter. A love confession - simple, honest, eloquent - folded with care and placed right after the novel's epilogue. It seems fitting, an epilogue of their own.


	13. "Are you jealous?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Are you jealous?"

Jemma watched Gereon wag his tail and ask Fitz for more cuddles. Then she replied, "No."

"I think she is, don't you?"

"It's about family," she answered matter-of-factly.

"I am family! We're married, remember?"

"Yeah, but I've been his family for longer." She paused. "It's just- it's unfair! We've been out for the same amount of time and now he treats you as if you went AWOL for years."

Fitz laughed, a careless and contagious laugh that started with a snort. "It's because it always sounds like we're from the middle ages. It's a question of sympathy."


	14. "You're a disappointment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

They're about to have dinner: already sitting at the table, pizza and two beers in front of them. He thinks about turning the TV off, but the current political climate is less than ideal and he feels trapped in an endless cycle of misery and despair.

"King," Fitz scoffs, as a picture of the King appears on screen and the news presenters go over his decision to dissolve Parliament. "more like a tyrant in the making."

"Fitz," Jemma starts to say, his name sounds like a desperate plea. "I need to tell you something before-"

Jemma appears on screen. A press conference. The room filled with noise and flashes of cameras as she stands there in her black suit, confident and bold. For a moment there's nothing but anticipating silence, the whole room - quiet. Then Jemma says, "Today I announce that I, Princess Jemma Anne Simmons, will mediate between the King and the House of Commons".

"That." She finishes.

His fork falls down on the floor with a loud metallic thud, but he ignores it.

"Fitz, I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you! But the-" Jemma shouts at him, tears in her eyes.

Fear, panic and anger wash over him as he grips the edge of the dinner table, knuckles turning white, and pushes his chair back. It screeches on the floor, a loud and unpleasant sound that covers the sound of the television.

"You're a disappointment," he whispers sharply, barely meaning it.

She's back in the game: it feels like treason, the beginning of a coup. She's back in the game: both his reputation and her safety at risk.

"I'm going out. I'll be late." He gets up, takes his coat and an umbrella and walks to the door, leaving the flat before she can call his name.


	15. "I came to say goodbye."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I came to say goodbye," said Jemma. "You're not leaving because of me, are you?"

He shook his head. "No, Manchester United is playing tonight."

She smiled, softly. "Can I just say that I'm glad that we made up while we had the chance? It was lovely to spend time with, well, you. I've missed you, Fitz, and I hope you don't think too badly of me."

"Why would I?"

"It's been such a long time, God knows what you think of me now."

"I think I'm glad to see you looking so well." He smiled, yearning to add more.


	16. "I wish we could stay like this forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

Still laughing, she cupped his cheeks and kissed him - smiling against his lips for a moment longer, before daringly touching his lips with the tip of her tongue. He opened his mouth and their tongues touched, moist and slippery muscle against moist and slippery muscle, and there they stood: his arms around her waist, pulling her close, and her hands at the back of his neck, lost in the sensation of just kissing.

Breathless they parted. Foreheads touching, breaths mixing, a string of saliva between them. Giddy, elated, radiant.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," said Jemma. Always alone, always together. "I don't want this to come to an end."

"It doesn't have to," replied Fitz. "Jemma, I've got a job on a paper. You could come with me. To Glasgow. We're of age and you've got the money your grandparents left you. You could find work, live with my mother until the banns are read."

He paused and panicked, reality slowly settling in. There would be consequences, his mother had already told him that they were playing with fire, apt to get hurt. "They'll say I seduced you."

"Please! If anything, I'm the one who seduced you."


	17. "Isn't this amazing?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

From where they were sitting on the terrace, on this their wedding night, they could see the Dorset coastline, with its pebbled beach and the waves relentlessly hitting the shore, the sea stretching itself towards infinity and the smell of salt filling the air and their nostrils.

"Isn't this amazing?" he asked her, full of enthusiasm.

"It really is," replied Jemma, taking his hand. "Can you believe that we're married, husband?"

"I cannot, wife." He paused, looking at her, a surge of love washing over him. His best friend. His wife. "You know, this... us being married... is just as amazing."


	18. “About the baby… It's yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

Fitz tried not to keep looking at the golden wedding band around her finger. Oddly enough, the small ring was even less overlookable than the baby that was sitting on her lap - happily gurgling and playing with a teaspoon - the spitting image of Jemma except for the clear blue eyes and the curls (like her father, Jemma had told him). A sense of yearning, friendship, love: familiar and unaltered feelings that now mixed with regret and missed opportunities. Resentment, plenty of it, and a strange sense of happiness: at least one of them had managed to move on with their life, instead of remaining stuck in the past.

"Fitz," said Jemma. "There's something I've got to tell you."

"Go on then."

"About the baby." She paused and bit her lip, looking away from him. "It's yours."

"What do you mean mine?"

"Do I really have to tell you about the birds and the bees? We had sex, eight months later Evelyn was born."

His daughter! It was a shock, incoherent thoughts going staccato. Fitz opened his mouth and closed it again.

"Say something, please!"

"Does... Does your husband know?"

Maybe that was the reason why they were taking tea at Nonnatus House, Poplar. Then again, Jemma would never bitch a man so her husband must know! Suddenly he found himself hating this stranger: surely he was perfect, surely they were madly in love and happy, surely he was everything that Fitz wasn't.

"There is no husband. There's never been one, Fitz," she whispered, his name came out in a loud sob and he watched her hold Evelyn closer to her. Now she had definitely lost him. The whole world out of order.

"What do you mean there's no husband?"

"God." She half-sobbed, half-laughed. "Clearly I'm still the smartest one here."


	19. "Dance with me!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Dance with me!" she shouts, trying to be heard above the music, and stretches her hand out.

Hesitance, on both sides, and an unusual lack of confidence as they step closer to each other - his right arm around her waist, their fingers laced, and their bodies close.

"May I say how exceptionally beautiful you look tonight, Fitz?" She pauses. "I like you like this."

"What?" He frowns- "You didn't like me before? Now, now, Jemma, I thought we were friends."

"I like you more."

A laugh escapes her throat - vibrant and carefree. How to tell him that she thinks, nay is convinced, that there may be more than friendship? Ask him to leave, go home or somewhere quiet, the two of them, to figure it all out. I like you, let's get dinner, let's go home.

"Really," she says instead. "You're driving them wild."

"You don't say."

"You should find someone nice." She blurts out unexpectedly, trying to ignore the irresistible impulse to kiss her. 

"Who? There's only ever been you." For a moment it seems as if he's about to kiss her, their mouths only inches apart, but then he says, "And you're not even that nice."


	20. "Don't die on me, please!"

"Don't die on me, please! Don't you dare die on me." His voice sounds distant, years away, but she feels his hand in hers - his skin, no doubt, full of her blood.

She wants to tell him, nay reassure him, that she had absolutely no intention to die. Not today. Not when she's just given him her letter, the one that matters. Not when they've got a date to look forward to. It's over, she wants to tell him, they're going to be alright.

She coughs, her entire body aching. "Fitz."

The sound of the ambulance covers her voice.


	21. "You're making me blush!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Oh," she says, genuinely surprised as Fitz walks out of his room. "You look... dashing."

He's wearing his suit and he looks hot, handsome. Not that she doesn't appreciate him in his pyjamas at six o'clock in the morning, the trousers hanging loosely on his hips and his eyes still filled with sleep, slowly making his way around the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Or when he's wearing one of his ugly t-shirts. But this!

"Stop," he replies. "You're making me blush!"

"It suits you."

Now he's beet red and is trying not to look at her. Good, thinks Jemma, let them both be uncomfortable and unable to form coherent thoughts and sentences.

"So, what's the plan?"

"Opera."

"Opera?" Jemma pauses dramatically. "Isn't that for old, nay ancient, people? Sorry, that was mean. I hope you and your date enjoy yourselves."

For a moment she thinks about asking him whether she should wait for him or go to sleep, but then realizes that if she were his date, she'd tell him to screw the opera and follow her to bed instead. Quite the broken hearts, she's sure, though at the moment the only broken one is hers - he's slipping away from her and going to the opera with someone else. To the opera, of all places!

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I know you-"

"I'm fine, Fitz. Just go, have fun! I'll be here watching EastEnders. Pity you're going today and not on Wednesday." She jokes. "I know how much you like that show."

"Better than opera, that's for sure."

"You must really like your date then." She sighs, trying not to sound too disappointed or jealous. "Just don't come crying back to me when you realize how many things you've missed on EastEnders."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EastEnders is a British soap opera, since 2001 episodes have been broadcast every weekday apart from Wednesdays (with some exceptions).


	22. "Do you trust me?"

"Do you trust me?" she asks, her voice is nothing but a shaking and feeble whisper.

"Of course, what kind of question is that?"

Jemma shrugs and looks at him. How to tell him that she thinks one of their colleagues is MI6, covering up the whole dead debutante affair? How to tell him that they were following her again. It's a dangerous game and she can't be sure of him or anything it seems, loyalties are coming apart.

"You look terrible, why don't you go home? Get some sleep."

She draws greedily on her cigarette. "I can't sleep. I've got this feeling someone's standing by my shoulder. Can't seem to shake it. A beautiful girl falls in love with a traitor who's passing secrets that don't make any sense. What on earth is a Brightsone? It's a secret dangerous enough to get you killed even by a friend. God, my head hurts."

"You're rambling." He places his hand on her cheek, a vain attempt to calm her down. "Maybe it was an accident."

"There are no accidents, remember that when I'm found floating in the Thames." She pauses. "God, I don't want to die like that! I want to just... disappear."


	23. "Shut up and kiss me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

Two equally possible options in front of them, perfectly balanced, one of them destined never to happen - they just have to make up their minds: He can come in for a coffee, though at this point coffee sounds more like a euphemism, or she can go in while he goes home.

It's a night of possibilities as they stand in the quiet and empty street. The laughter, the terrible Chinese food, the happiness. It's a date, though they have hardly mentioned the word so as to avoid commitment to its consequences, and it's slowly and inevitably coming to an end, leaving them both with the familiar feeling of not wanting to leave just yet.

He finishes to tell her an anecdote about his previous work experience and then adds, quickly, the syllables coming out of his mouth in an uninterrupted stream, "You'd like it there. You won't find better news than cows blocking the road. Quite the change, really."

"For the love of God, Fitz." She interrupts him. There's something irresistible about him making plans for their future when he has yet to decide how to end the evening, but it's time to leap into the unknown. "Shut up and kiss me."


	24. "Is that my shirt?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Oh my goodness," she paused, looking at him. "What happened to you?"

"Fell into a puddle. I swear to God, when I left the flat this morning, I was spotless."

"Why? I, for one, think that the mud makes you look irresistible." She laughed.

"Shoes off?"

"Definitely, just leave them there to dry. If you take your clothes off, I'll put them through the wash. Strip."

"It's nice here," he said as he took his clothes off. Left in his underwear, looking at walking to her bedroom, he felt vulnerable and exposed, almost raw - old feelings coming back, a sense of familiarity and loss. "It's lovely."

"I like it. There-" She handed him a folded shirt that looks oddly known and familiar, quite worn off, with faded colours.

"Is that my shirt, Jemma?"

She nodded.

"Thought so."

"Please don't tell me that you want it back."

"No, no, you can keep it. What?"

"Nothing, just... That shirt definitely looks better on me, I really did you a favour." She put a hand on his cheek, her thumb gently caressing his skin. "God, I've missed you. Look at you. You look well. Good. Fit. A bit muddy, you could use a wash."


	25. “You’d be a great dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Fitz, it's a pleasure to see you again!"

Before he could stretch out his hand, Jemma kissed his cheek - her lips lingering on his skin longer than necessary. A cough interrupted them, causing Jemma to step back, and a little girl stepped forward. She looked oddly familiar with her freckles and dark braids.

"This is Charlotte," said Jemma.

"Charlie," the girl corrected her. "I'm Charlie."

"I'm Fitz, Jemma's-"

"Friend." Jemma cut him off. "We used to be best friends at university."

Best friends and more, he thought as he looked at her, and now, those old and half forgotten feelings - friendship, love, longing - were coming back, washing over him. Unbelievable, even now, that she had finally decided to settle down, close enough for their story to resume.

"I thought my father was your best friend at university," said Charlie, before she turned around and went back into the flat, calling Gereon's name and not paying any attention to them whatsoever.

"How old-"

"Seven."

"And a half!" Charlie screamed from inside, only to be immediately shushed by Jemma.

Now he was panicking, a ridiculous thing to happen. It could make sense, it would explain it all, and it's not like he and Jemma had never had sex while at uni. More than that, a couple of pregnancy scares. But this! Surely she would have told him if...

"What's going on, Fitz?"

"Charlotte, she's not... Is she?" He gestured vaguely, unable to finish the sentence.

"God, no! Fitz." She snorted and laughed, loudly, her entire body shaking, until she was breathless and had tears rolling down her cheeks. "While I'm pretty sure that you'd be a great dad, this isn't... Charlotte is Will's daughter! I'm looking after her while he's at some academic event with his wife."


	26. "You own my heart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

The church smelled of flowers, a soft and pleasant smell that filled everyone's nostrils - the smell of hope. The buzzing of voices lifted itself into the air, and everyone's eyes were turned to the couple standing in front of the altar. The whole world was in mourning and there was a sense of gravity and seriousness to the whole situation, the past unforgotten: pain, but beauty too, perfectly balanced on this their wedding day.

Her brother was still being blamed, she had heard one of Fitz's friends make nasty and untruthful remarks after dinner. What good did it do now, when her brother had been dead for several years - killed in France like hundreds of others? The past would remain untouched and unaltered: harsh words would never change the years Jemma and her brother had spent happily married. And bending the truth served no purpose for the truth was one: feelings changed, history was shaped by confusion, misunderstandings and unspoken words. Fitz and Jemma had had plenty, a wedding back in 1914 would have been the beginning of a tragedy rather than a happy ending.

She felt, as she looked at the couple in front of her, like the last guardian of history, the last keeper of truth. But there they were Fitz and Jemma, radiant and dashing, confident and eager, looking at each other with fondness, love, and a hint of amazement as if unable to believe their luck. Fitz's hands trembled as he took Jemma's left hand, ready to slip the golden wedding ring around her finger - a soft detail that could easily go unnoticed.

"You own my heart," mouthed Fitz and smiled.

"And you mine," whispered Jemma.

New beginnings in this time of healing. And this bliss, this happiness - no one deserved it more than them.


	27. "Can I kiss you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I came to apologize," she said. "For all the things I said this morning. I wasn't mad at you, Fitz, not really. It's been a rough week, please know that I didn't mean any of it."

"I'm not angry, Jemma. Truly, I'm not. Do you want to about it?"

"I can't, I've got to go back and- I just wanted to say this, I'm sure that we're going to fight about a number of things, but... I wouldn't be happy with anyone else as long as you walked the earth." She paused. "Can I kiss you now? Because I need to. Very much."


	28. "So that's it? It's over?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"So that's it? It's over?" he all but yelled as he watched Jemma collect her books and notebooks, stuffing them into her rucksack. There was a certain amount of precision and determination in her actions as if she had rehearsed it all at home, right after sending him that final email.

"Yes," she said. "It's all over. I don't want to discover another thing about them. All my life... I thought- But this is horrible. It's doomed!"

"Then what about us? You didn't include us in your email."

He could accept her decision to step back and he would respect it. But they were friends, partners, more than that and he would never believe her if she said that all of it meant nothing. It couldn't be, not after Yorkshire.

"Look, I... I can't think of anything right now."

"So this is the icy pull back part." He mocked her and hated himself for holding it against her, but there was no way of stopping now, as his heart beat hard in his chest. Too much hurt, too much anger, too much care. "You get close, you pull away, you... It's your pattern, right?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

All he could think of was telling her that she had nothing to worry about from him, that they could figure it out and talk about it, but he didn't. Instead he said, "Your nice little speech from Yorkshire, that's what I'm talking about! How you pull back before you can get hurt. If that's how you want to play it-"

She looked at him on the verge of tears, her lips trembling. Faintly and sharply she said, "Do you honestly believe that, Fitz?"

He shrugged. "All this talk of us really comes to nothing, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I guess you're right. It's nothing."


	29. "Not you again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Not you again." She sighs as Fitz walks into the office. "I thought-"

"Can I show you something?" he asks, cutting her off, and puts his briefcase on her desk. Then he hands her a bundle of old, yellow pages.

"Please tell me they're not the originals."

"I borrowed-"

"Stole- Where from?"

"Them. The London Library-"

"What the hell?"

"They were in one of the books, I don't think people know about their existence."

"So you stole them?"

"An irresistible impulse." He jokes. "Listen, I know I shouldn't have taken them, but I think I've found a connection with one of your poets."


	30. "What's the matter?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"What's the matter?" he asks as he runs after her.

Down the stairs and into the street, his steps heavy on the steps. The street is quiet, a lonely car passes by and drives on, and there they stand under the yellow dim light cast by the lampposts. Above them, the sky is clear and the stars perfectly visible - it would be the perfect night to go somewhere, look back, and look at the sky as a full moon shines above them, silver light softening the edges of reality.

For a moment Jemma thinks about asking him to just go, drive somewhere where they can be alone and stay side by side, lying on the ground on such a perfect and warm summer night. If it's all going to end tomorrow than he's the only person she wants to spend the night with; After all, they belong to each other's side: it feels right, subtly inevitable and incredibly natural.

"I came to tell you." She pauses. "Never mind. You're busy, we'll see each other in the morning."

He goes in back to his life and she goes home. He's got a life now, she reminds herself, and she's not really part of it - such a stupid, wonderful thing. But she needs to know, before it all ends, whether there's still hope or if it's too bloody late. They- She's spent years trying to ignore any romantic feelings: if you took their friendship and replaced it with romance, what would they lose for that? Now, however, unpintpointable and unspoken love confessions can no longer be ignored or overlooked, they stand between them every hour of every day. She needs to know if they're still possible.

"Jemma-"

"I don't want to leave without saying-"

"Without saying what?"

"Let's just... Let's just walk."


	31. "You're the best!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

The September air is fresh, lively and smells of salt and seaweed - dúlamán na binne buidhe, one of her friends always told her, be'fhearr a bhí in Éirinn. 

"Where are we going, Fitz?" she asks, trying to catch up with him, fastening her pace, the gravel moving under her feet.

"You said you were feeling a little bit under the weather," he says while handing her his rucksack so that he can put on his yellow raincoat. "So I've made plans. I know it won't change much, it certainly won't... I thought we could spend the day outside, go and watch the seals."

"It's going to rain," she says matter-of-factly, mentally kicking herself for being a spoilsport. It's unfair albeit true, according to that morning's weather forecast. She's been in a lousy mood ever since their arrival, ruining their holiday though he doesn't seem to hold it against her. How to tell him that it's all too much?

"Then we'll take the bus home or get wet. It's not like we don't have plenty of spare clothes at home, do we?"

She smiles and takes his hand, stepping closer to him. "That's because I excel at preparations. Thank you, Fitz. I mean it. For not complaining or arguing with me. It's been a rough year."

He nods.

"So, what's in that rucksack of yours?"

"Sandwiches, water, handkerchiefs." He stops and looks at her. "And if you stop complaining about the weather forecast, I'm going to buy you ice-cream."

"The white swirly one or gelato?"

"The white swirly one."

He laughs and she joins him, the first laugh in days: it feels good, freeing. A sudden element of levity making up for the odd intensity and strange gravity of the present. 

"You're the best! The best friend, the best fiancé, the best everything," she says and kisses his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dúlamán: Irish for "challenged wrack", a type of edible seaweed.  
> dúlamán na binne buidhe (seaweed from the yellow cliff) be'fhearr a bhí in Éirinn (the best in all of Ireland) I think that's how you write it, correct me if it's wrong.  
> Seal watching is good for the soul - they're so round and nice.


	32. "How did we get here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

How did we get here, he wants to ask, but his throat is dry and his entire body aches. His belongings are on the table next to him, a dark outline against the blinding morning light that shines through the window. They look foreign and unknown, belong to a stranger, and mean nothing to him.

Outside: whistling, hurtling, louder and faster. Hell - the entire world shaking. 

Memories, they come in flashes: Smoke and whiskey, their scent lingering in the air and following him everywhere; The shovels hitting against the wall, the noise keeps him awake at night. Numbed faculties, no pain and no apprehension, that's what they say about death but this isn't it: there's a blast, something burst next to him. France. London. A woman. There is a woman, a woman he loved; And they got close. They nearly got fucking everything.

Inside: brick walls, white linen on hospital beds, heavy steps on the floor, screams.

What is my name, he wants to ask, but the headache is unbearable and makes him sick as he lies there, stuck between past, present and future. Out of time and space, out of the world, and lacking the means to step back into it.


	33. "We'd make such a cute couple."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I wasn't sure if you were together, everyone says you're not. Even so, I put you close. We're all _très libéral_ here."

Fitz blushes and stutters, trying not to snort or laugh at such an implication as he says, "We're not- It's not."

"Thank you," Jemma cuts him off with more decisiveness. "But there's really no need."

Does Jemma really sound disappointed or is he merely imagining the touch of bitterness in her voice? It's not that he considers the whole notion of the two of them together to be ridiculous, this is just him trying to avoid to get his hopes up.

"One never can tell how things work out. You'd make such a cute couple."

They watch her walk down the corridor, her heavy steps getting quieter and quieter. He's about to enter his room, a farfetched attempt to escape embarrassment and the irresistible urge to pour his heart out, when Jemma looks at him and says, "You know, what? She's right, we'd make such a cute couple."

It's a playful remark that leaves him wondering whether she's teasing him or knows about his feelings for her. Before he can ask, she's already entered her room and the moment is gone.


	34. "I want to take care of you."

"I'm sorry to be such a nuisance," said Fitz as he sat upright, clutching the hot water bottle against his chest. This was definitely not how he had planned the afternoon to go, turning up at her house, drenched and feverish, feeling dizzy and nauseous.

"There's no need to apologize."

"If you give me a lift back to the station I'll take the six o'clock train-"

"Nonsense!" she cut him off, putting down the tray she was carrying. "Can you please stop pretending that you're alright when you clearly aren't? And don't say anything, I want to take care of you."


	35. "Can we cuddle?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Jemma, are you sleeping?" he whispers.

"Fitz, is that you? What time is it?"

"Yes. Late." He pauses. For a moment he thinks about telling her to forget about it and go back to his room, but he's had the worst day ever and needs some time with someone who cares about him and whom he cares about. They're flatmates and best friends in the world, but it's also unfair to keep her awake at such a ghastly hour. The temptation to leave almost overwhelming. "Can we cuddle?"

"Sure, just come here," she answers and switches the light on.

He slips under the covers and the entire mattress rocks like a boat under their weight. At last, he lies down and Jemma moves closer to him, resting her head on his chest. For a moment they lie there, in silence, lost in their embrace - warm, it feels like home.

"Did something happen?" she asks. "Can I help?"

"I don't think so, no. It's just something I've read today-"

And then, in the late hours of the night, as they lie next to each other, he tells her everything about his day, and she listens carefully without interrupting him once.


	36. "I can't believe you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Here it comes," he whispered. "I love you Jemma."

His love declaration sounded genuine, sincere; It was impossible not to believe him.

"And there it goes." She paused, pulling back, her fingers lingering on his cheek a little longer. "Away it goes."

"Jemma-" Her name sounded different, the same familiar sounds filled with new meaning.

"I can't believe you- I can't trust you when all you did was lie. An agent of the crown, for God's sake! Was all of it a lie?" she asked, feeling more than pathetic as she stood there filled with hope.

"You know it wasn't."


	37. "I've liked you for a while now."

They kissed once, on the dance floor: a strange and ludicrous feeling having the other's face so close to their own. Then Jemma led him back to their table, holding his hand, to finish their drinks - in silence, elated and aroused, looking at each other with longing and certain that something was about to happen. The moan at the back of her throat had marked the ultimate transformation and there they stood, no longer prisoners of their own insecurities, but acting upon their feelings.

"I've liked you for a while now," said Fitz. Surprisingly it had taken less courage than imagined, or maybe it was the alcohol speaking, lowering his inhibitions. Still, it felt good to have finally spoken those words out loud and here of all places!

Gone was the tentativeness, the hesitance and the conjunctive. This was happening, they were happening - a thrilling sensation of things finally falling into place, out of misery and into the realm of possibilities, bound to become true.

"Let's go back to mine," she shouted in order to be heard above the music.

As they stepped outside, together and with the promise of a future, it felt as if they had rediscovered happiness.


	38. "You need to leave."

"You need to leave," he says, breathless and between kisses. "Someone could walk in and find us like this."

"Nonsense," she replies. "It's Mothering Sunday, they're all gone."

The two of them alone in an empty house, the ancient brick walls the only witnesses to their secret rendezvous. An entire day just for themselves, they could have this for the rest of their life if only they had the courage to admit their feelings and stick to the consequences.

"I'll leave if you want me to. You-"

"Nonsense," he cut her off. "I want you to stay."

Now and forever.


	39. "We can't keep this up forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"We can't keep this up forever," he said matter-of-factly as they walked into his flat.

"I know, Fitz!"

And she knew indeed, for soon enough he'd move back to Scotland to start his exciting new job, to make something of himself. One day, soon, she 'd have to make up her mind - it was inevitable. Fitz had asked her to marry him and she had panicked for the truth was but one: who was there to reassure her that their marriage would not turn into grief and resentment? She had seen it happen to her parents who now lived under the same roof without even looking at each other. It all worked out well in books, but real life was complicated and such leaps across social boundaries hardly ever worked out.

Good God, she thought, she sounded like one of _them._

Perhaps Fitz was right, perhaps her lot was much better at hiding their feelings than everyone else was. But she did love him, so utterly and dearly! She did! Had she not told him so on more than one occasion? No, there was plenty of love, but when did love ever solve anything? When had love ever been enough and where, oh where, did love conquer all?

Besides, it wasn't even herself she was worried about, it was him. Him! Fitz, her best friend in the world and the only man she could imagine having a future with; She couldn't and wouldn't give him a hasty and positive answer and then break his heart ten years from now. He didn't deserve it.

"I'm not asking for forever," she said, taking his hand. "Just a few more weeks. You'll get your answer before the end of the month, I promise. So will you wait?"

He sighed dramatically. "Yes. Of course."


	40. "I want to protect you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I want to protect you!" she yelled, her voice echoing inside the empty bar.

Her constant nagging was getting on his nerves for she knew nothing, and he, for one, would not be the one to tell her the truth. An agent of the crown sent to infiltrate her family and spy on them, weekly reports to Scotland Yard, Jemma would never forgive him.

"I can protect myself," he yelled back.

A complicated business: Surely he wasn't the only one to have his head turned by love; Surely he wasn't the only one who had fallen in love with the enemy.


	41. "I'm pregnant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I say, are you feeling alright?" asked Fitz as he sat down beside her.

She looked at him, wiping the tears from her cheek and took a deep breath. Best to break the news to him now, at the very beginning, give him the chance to leave now instead of tainting the memory of their time together.

"I'm pregnant." She sobbed, her whole body shaking. "Mama says I should go to Switzerland, give the child up for adoption. But I can't do that, Fitz. I can't!"

The situation was less than ideal. This, now that she had finally managed to move on. This, now that grief had finally started to fade leaving space for acceptance and resolutions. But she couldn't give up the baby and let some strangers raise it. It was her child, she'd figure something out.

"Jemma-"

"I won't bitch you either," she cut him off.

People got married all the time and babies were born early, but she wouldn't take advantage of Fitz, marrying him and pretending that the baby was his. Because it wasn't, of that she was sure. All she needed to know was that he did not think badly of her and that he'd forgive her, the rest would sort itself out with time and patience.

"That's not... You're strong, a storm-braver if I ever saw one. Whatever you decide to do, please know that I'll stand by you."

"But why?"

"Because you lived your life and I lived mine. Because we're friends. Because we were granted a second chance and we'd be fools to let it slip through our fingers." He paused and took her hand and gently squeezed it. "Besides, if that baby turns out like either of his parents, you're definitively going to need all the help you can get."


	42. "You're a monster."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I've seen you shed a tear. You thought I couldn't see you, but I could."

"At least I wasn't sniffling the whole time."

"You're a monster," said Fitz, throwing one of the pillows at her.

"You're a monster," she mocked him. Then she sobbed dramatically and said, "Can you believe it, Jemma? All Lavinia wanted was for Matthew and Mary to be happy, for her sake. To go on with their lives!"

"That's not even how I sound!"

"But I can't be happy, not without you. How could I be happy?" She paused. "Please, as if he hadn't just finished snogging Mary." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAVINIA DESERVED BETTER.


	43. "Are you flirting with me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

Outside rain and a blurred figured, a dark outline against the dim yellow light cast by the lamp posts. Fitz closed the curtains, ignoring the man outside and the thoughts at the back of his mind, and went back to the kitchen counter to pour the tea into the cups.

"Are you flirting with me?" asked Fitz as he turned around to look at her. 

He was sure that she was. Gone was the playful banter and the sarcastic jokes that had starred their conversation ever since Jemma had walked into his flat; Things were serious now - a strange gravity, a sense of experimentation - as they looked at each other with longing.

"No." Jemma shrugged, a teasing smile on her face. "I'm just here to drink tea. Do you have biscuits?"

"No, they attract mice."

"Fitz, listen... I'll go as soon as trouble dies down."

"And when will it die down, do you think?"

"Late, I'd say."

"So not until morning then."

"Yes, I'd say I'll be here until morning."

Enough time to forget themselves and pretend that they had all the time in the world, and perhaps time would make them brave enough to leap into the unknown and explore possibilities.


	44. "You look cute when you're angry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Good God!" said Jemma as she dramatically stormed into the kitchen.

Fitz closed the book he was reading and placed it to the side, watching her as she violently opened the fridge and poured herself a glass of apple juice.

"Want some?"

He shook his head.

"I hate them!" she all but yelled. "I hate them all. Bloody hell, Fitz!"

"What's going on?" he asked.

"They forgot about the group project. They bloody forgot! I could kill them all. And Milton! Milton is the absolute worst. The deadline's tomorrow. Tomorrow!" She paused, looking at him. "What?"

"You look cute when you're angry."


	45. "Leave me alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Leave me alone," says Fitz without looking at her.

Turns out that posing as a married couple and sharing one of the teachers' cottages gives them plenty of time to get to know each other, no matter how much time they spend working on the case. She knows that he likes to spend some time alone after dinner, but this is a conversation she wants to continue.

"Career won't hold you at three in the morning when the wolves come circling."

"Do they come circling, Jemma?"

She shrugs. "If I found someone, then all of this wouldn't matter at all."


	46. "Did you do something different with your hair?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Did you do something different with your hair?" she asked, studying him carefully. 

"Really? We see each other for the first time in months and all you can think of is my hair?" He joked. "I've missed you too by the way."

"You did! It's shorter on the sides," said Jemma, completely ignoring him. "I like it. You look good. Handsome. It suits you."

He blushed and looked away. "Thank you."

"And I did."

"What?"

"Miss you." She paused, took his hand and smiled - It was impossible not to. "I've missed you, Fitz. I've missed you so very much."


	47. "They're going to love you, don't worry!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Oh, I don't know, Fitz," she said as they walked down the street, snow faintly falling all around them. "I am, well, me. And your colleagues-"

"Friends, Jemma."

"Alright then, friends. Your friends, they stand for... They're going to hate me."

"I don't hate you."

"Yeah, but you're, well, you," she replied.

And even Fitz - her fiancé, the love of her life - had reacted skeptically to her most recent announcement. So what were his friends going to say?

"Nonsense." He paused, turned around to kiss her cheek, and then took her hand. "They're going to love you, don't worry!"


	48. "I don't love you anymore!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I don't love you anymore!"

Jemma's voice echoed inside their flat as soon as he entered it. For a moment the whole world seemed to stop and there he stood, with the shopping in one hand and the keys in the other, as panic washed over him.

"Jemma?" he asked, trying to gather enough coherency to utter a complete sentence. "What's going on?"

"Just go! Leave me alone!"

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

He dropped the shopping on the floor and walked towards the living room, only to find her sitting at the table, working on one of her scripts.

She looked up. "Can you believe this nonsense? No sensible person would ever write such a thing, they should hire new- What's going on?"

"I thought you were talking to me."

"Oh Fitz." She got up and reached him. Then she went on and said, "I'd never yell something like that from the living room. I'd never yell something like that period."

"You gave me the fright of my life." He paused and laughed. "So you still love me?"

"I do," she answered and then kissed him - languidly at first, then with more purpose. "So very much."


	49. "I'm going to kill you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

Standing in front of each other, weapons drawn. Surprisingly his hands aren't shaking nor is he afraid of what comes next - he's got the law on his side, even here in this lawless city. This, the moment they have always been coming to. He knows everything, there's no way he'll make it out alive.

"We know who you are. Jemma knows as well, turned out that copper as good as told her this morning. But I wanted to hear it from your lips."

Fitz's heart skips a beat when he hears Jemma's name, but he tries to stay in control.

"What did he tell her?" He paused. "Answer me!"

"That her heart would be broken before the day was over. But you've broken two hearts or so it seems."

Clear minded. He cannot and will not let his feelings get the better of him. "I am an agent of the crown. I have the power to arrest you and the right to use force. So please, step out of my way."

"Like I say, instinct is a funny thing. You fell for Jemma for real, didn't you?"

Yes. Yes. Yes. And now, he's sure, Jemma is going to try to kill him: It doesn't matter that he and Jemma are the same or that he saved her life the night the coppers came. It's about loyalty.

"This gun is loaded. I'm going to kill you!" he shouts. Spit leaves his mouth as he articulates the last few syllables and his voice slowly falters.

"I'm not afraid of you. I feel sorry for you. Slip of a thing, thought you'd come here and stitch us all up, did you? I mean, we've had our coppers' nark in here, but you? You're the king of them all. So, who are you?"


	50. "Oh, are you ticklish?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

Outside, snow faintly falling, painting the world white. Inside, their living room: Jemma sitting in front of the piano, Fitz and Evelyn lying on the floor, playing, enjoying the moment.

"Oh, are you ticklish?" asked Fitz as he tickled Evelyn's belly, pretending to play the piano.

"No," Evelyn replied, her answer lost in giggles and squeals of delight.

The sound of the piano, a spiralling frenzy of semiquavers, filled the room. Fitz's favourite song, the one she played all those years ago: Young and in love, a life-changing night. Memories, however, hardly compared with the reality of the moment.


	51. "It's lonely here without you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"It's lonely here without you," said Fitz over the phone.

"We miss you," replied Jemma.

"Mummy, I want da!" sniffled Evelyn as she stood at the bedroom's door, clutching her Paddington Bear against her chest. One fat tear rolled down her cheek, but there would be more.

"Come here, my darling," said Jemma, reaching her daughter and picking her up. "You want to talk to dad?"

Evelyn nodded as she settled between the covers.

"It's alright, darling. Just two sleeps, remember? You have to sleep tonight, and then you'll have to sleep tomorrow, and then I'll be home. I promise."


	52. "This is why I fell in love with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

They're tipsy and taking a stroll down memory lane - before their relationship, before their friendship: two strangers studying at Oxford, paths occasionally crossing.

"You weren't like the rest, that's for sure," she says.

"I tried to be, I think."

"When?"

"I did! I tried to like trad and the Angries. Sartre. French Cigarettes."

"You were awkward and all corners socially." She paused. "And so angry. Contra mundum. At yourself most of all."

"Thank you, Jemma-"

"But you were, are one of the most open, loyal, and caring people." She cuts him off. "This is why I fell in love with you."


	53. "I need a hug."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I need a hug," she tells him as she enters the living room.

There's a newspaper in her hand and she throws it on the table, it slides towards him, but stops midway. Still, the title, black on white, is perfectly readable. It doesn't take much to figure out what it's all about and that one star, printed right under the title, stares at her accusingly. She, they, got hammered: it happened before and will happen again. It's inevitable, really, and part of the job. It's tough though: on the one hand, she respects the critics, they see a lot of theatre, are a very informed bunch, and know how to do their job; on the other, she stands by her latest production and takes full responsibility for it.

"Jemma-"

"I just need a hug, please?"

"Come here."

She walks towards him and they meet midway, in front of the window, the garden outside is blooming - a sea of colours. He holds her close and she buries her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. Familiar. Home.

"I don't know, Fitz. Some are fair, others are... farfetched."

"If it's any consolation, the audience loved it."


	54. "Thanks for nothing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I need your help," he says, bursting into the bathroom while she's bathing. "You've got to tell me if the following sentence makes sense."

She looks up and blinks in disbelief, but he ignores her and takes place on the toilet - carefully holding his laptop.

"Fitz," says Jemma. "Really? Now?"

"Just one!" He protests.

"Just one," she mocks him. "You always say that, next thing I know I'm listening to an entire scene."

"Now that's not true!"

"This," she says, gesturing at the bathroom. "Isn't the place. You can join me or leave, your choice."

"Thanks for nothing, Jemma."


	55. "I thought you loved me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I thought you loved me," he whispered. It was clear now that she would not follow him to Scotland, there she was without any luggage - odd, understandable and easily justified.

"I do."

"Then why?"

"Because they're right. This isn't the way, Fitz." She paused, placing her hand on his cheek. "But I won't be talked out of giving my heart either."

"I can't stay. Glasgow-"

"I know. You go, Fitz. I don't like deceit and I don't want to run away like a thief in the night. If we do, people will talk and neither of us deserves it," she explained and then, matter-of-factly, she added. "You should, however, ask me about my plan."

"You've got a plan?"

"Of course, you lemon! After all, I do excel at preparations. You'll go to Glasgow and if you swear that this delay changes nothing, I'll look for a job there and then move to start a whole new life. With you. But there won't be any gossiping and we won't be shunned by family and friends alike."

"I suppose you're right." He took her hand and smiled. "I thought this was the end."

"Nonsense, this is merely the beginning. Our beginning."


	56. “I lost the baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I lost the baby," she says as she enters his room. "Sometime last week, I think."

"The baby?" he asks in reply, confused and utterly lost.

"Well, obviously not a real baby," she explains. " _The_ baby. My Norton Anthologies, can't find them anywhere. Suppose someone stole them? I have no intention to spend another eighty pounds on them. Suppose I left them at my parents'? No, that can't be it, my mother would have told me by now. Any chance you've seen them?"

"No, I don't think so. Pretty sure I'd remember, but I can help you look for them."


	57. "You're so beautiful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"May I come in?" he asked as he entered the hospital room, headed to the chair next to Jemma's bed. "I'm afraid I'm a rather dusty and hot traveller."

"Nonsense, you're so beautiful." She paused. "Do come and say hello to our daughter."

Fitz took the baby in his arms, carefully holding it.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Exhausted and pretty relived. I feel like I swallowed a box of fireworks."

"Me too." He kissed her forehead and whispered, " Do you have a name in mind?"

"Evelyn Máiréad. I'm telling you, she'll go places."

"Just like her mother."


	58. "I fucked up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I fucked up," she tells him as soon as he enters the flat. Her actions of the past week make her ashamed of herself and he had every right to call her out on her hypocritical behaviour. "I know and I'm sorry. I should have told you as soon as I made up my mind. You learning about it the way you did-"

"Jemma, calm down."

"And you said. You said you didn't want me to follow and I thought-"

"Jemma, it's alright."

"No, it's not. This is a mess and I owe you both an apology and an explanation."


	59. "You'd be a great mom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"You'd be a great mom," he whispered, trying not to wake his niece.

"You think so?"

He nodded. "I know this isn't the right time. It's soon and we just got married and there's plenty of time, but I do want to have a family with you one day."

"Really?" she paused, turning around to look at him. "Because I thought- You were always so afraid to turn into your dad and... You're not your father Fitz. In fact I think you'd be a great dad."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She kissed his cheek. "I'd love to have children one day, when we're ready."


	60. "Give me a chance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

Give me a chance, she wants to say, but the words remain stuck at the back of her throat. She knows that Fitz leaving for a week, a month, is the right thing - time to heal, time to come to terms with the past couple of months. Still, after all this time, it's hard to let him go.

"If you need anything - money, a voice on the phone - you know where to find me," she tells him at last, her voice faltering.

He smiles sadly and takes her hand. "Take care of yourself, Jemma."

"You too, Fitz."


	61. "You're one hell of a guy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Leopold James Fitz," says Jemma. She's at a panel to discuss Brexit and there's everyone - politicians, economists, literati. _Fitz_.

"Jemma Anne Simmons. Fancy seeing you here," he replies as he turns around. "How long's it been now?"

"Too long, we were preparing for our vivas." She smiles. " I just wanted to say- you're one hell of a guy, but you've always been, really. I've read your papers on Scotland and independence, interesting perspective."

"Thank you. I... Afterwards, if we're not completely exhausted, we could try going for a drink?" He blurts out. "To catch up."

"Yes, why not."


	62. "You are one hell of a girl."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"You two are such good friends and you said you knew each other before. But what's it like when you have to do this for weeks on end, almost every night, twice a day sometimes. Trying the characters and having your own dynamics as well, tell us about that," asked the interviewer.

"It usually happens quite quickly, you learn almost immediately how it's going to be with somebody. And obviously this isn't the first time we do this together. Fitz is very open and an extraordinary actor, I never doubted that we'd have a good time together."

"I've never really liked-"

"Jemma Simmons," Jemma cut him off and starts laughing.

"Sure, that's what I was going to say. The truth is out, though it's a bit rude of you to finish my sentences for me. No, erhm- I always felt like I could trust Jemma: professionally, personally. She's one hell of a girl."

"Oh, thank you," she joked.

"No, I mean it. You are one hell of a girl, the best. And I think it's great that we were given the chance to do this to together," he said and looked at her, a teasing smile on his face.


	63. "I'm sick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Fitz!" she called as she walked down the corridor, headed to their bedroom.

"Don't shout," he whispered in the darkness. "I think that my head is about to explode."

"You've got to see this!" she said and sat down beside him, his whole body ached as he tried to move and he let out a moan of protest.

"I'm sick." He protested. "Surely it can wait."

She didn't bother giving a reply and just opened her laptop. Frozen on screen, a frame of David Cameron standing outside Downing Street.

"You've got to hear this. This clown- he's about to resign."


	64. "I thought we were family!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I thought we were family!"

They're playing _Ludo_ and it seems that both Jemma and Evelyn main goal isn't getting their tokens to their home column, but rather sending his back to their home yard.

"And there's no way one can roll six three times in one go," he goes on.

His dramatic voice causes his daughter to giggle even louder as she hands the dice to her mother.

"You're a sore loser," says Jemma before she kisses his cheek. "But you know what they say, unlucky at cards and lucky in love."

"The luckiest, really. You're conspiring against me!"


	65. "He's dead because of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

He goes and visits the grave sometimes. Alone, leaving in the early hours of the morning, it's the right time to think about the past and those who have fallen - sometimes it feels like an apology. Jemma doesn't know about it, part of him fears harsh and angry words: he's dead because of you. It's untrue, really, and perhaps he's just mad at himself and influenced by a long string of conditionals, by a series of what if-s.

"I don't have to tell you why I'm here," says Fitz. "Either you know everything or... Jemma is doing great, the backlash against a pregnancy out of wedlock not as big as expected. Your daughter- oh, she looks and acts exactly like you."

Carefully he puts down the flowers, spots of colour against the green grass, and goes on, "We're thinking of getting married. Jemma's the one who proposed, she thought it fitting, she thought she'd ask. I think she's finally realized that she doesn't have to do everything alone. But that's Jemma to you. And I hope that wherever you are now, you're happy for us. We, I do want you to be happy for us. I think you'd be."


	66. "Stop being so cute."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Stop being so cute," she tells him. "No, really, you've got to stop!"

Fitz shrugs. "I'm just reading today's paper and drinking tea."

"You look irresistible, Fitz, with your glasses and... I'm trying to be mad at you! You and Hunter finished the Jaffa Cakes and-"

"We were just trying to settle the dispute once and for all."

"And you had to eat Jaffa Cakes?"

"It was about them, whether they're cakes or biscuits."

"They're cakes, Fitz. Cakes!"

"Cakes, huh? What next? You're going to tell me that scone rhymes with-"

"Gone. Scone rhymes with gone."

"Actually... Yeah, it does."


	67. "Let's have a baby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"How did this happen?"

"Oh, I know! You said," Fitz mocks her. "Oh, Fitz! Enough with the talking and the planning, let's have a baby. Let's make a baby! And then you dramatically closed the drawer, leaving the condoms inside."

"You're making fun of me! You should have talked me out of it!" She stops, places her hands on her swollen belly and caresses it gently. "I'm happy, I really am, but I'm so tired of being pregnant. I feel restless, I want to-"

"You sound like Evelyn when she's asked to sit down and she's _five_."

"Oh, shut up!" She laughed.


	68. “Hold me and never let me go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

Skin resting on skin, wool against cotton, fingertips run on cheeks and lips gently brushing against a forehead. They touch each other with care and with no rush at all, each movement gentle and never ending, until they both find a comfortable position and Jemma's head is buried in the crook of his neck and his arms are around her, holding her close. Comfort, reassurance, protection, love.

"Hold me," she whispers, her voice faltering, and breaths in his scent - clean, fresh, minty. He smells like home. "And never let me go."

"I had no intention to."

She sobs. "Good."


	69. "Don't call this number again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Don't call this number again, that one's new," she told him as she stepped inside the flat - a great deal of entertainment and levity in her voice. "For I moment I thought you were serious, what a frightful sell."

"Indeed," he replied and kissed her. "I'm sorry, they were all there and I panicked."

Jemma laughed. "There would be no need to go to great lengths to keep this a secret if we stopped seeing each other like this. You could come for dinner tonight, they'd be delighted."

"Sure, dining with the Royal family while pushing for a referendum."


	70. "I don't deserve to be loved."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I don't deserve to be loved," she whispers as they hold each other.

"What do you mean?"

"You know who I am, I know who you are."

"Circumstance is not important, mine's just a uniform. It means nothing."

"Circumstance." She scoffs. "Some day I'll throw this gun in the canal."

"Why not now?"

No answer. She's worked too hard for this day, this business. There's responsibilities and people she wants to protect. She cannot leave now, no matter how much she wants to.

"I'll be in London one week," he says, scribbling something on a piece of paper. "This address."


	71. "I can't stand the thought of loosing you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I thought about it, about what you said."

"And?"

"I can't stand the thought of loosing you. I know I've been impossible as of late, there's so many things going on all at the same time and they never seem to end. But if your offer still stands, if you still want me to move in with you-"

"Yes. Of course!"

"Then I'd like to move in with you, very much so. I'm sure that we'll be able to figure something out, the commute is tricky but-" They laughed. "I'd love to spend the rest of my life with you."


	72. "Is that a new perfume?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"My mother said she'd..." he paused and looked at her as she sat down beside him. "Is that a new perfume?"

It's fresher and smells like mint. Oddly familiar.

"No?" she replied. "It's actually your shampoo. Honestly, Fitz, that thing is the best decongestant ever. It cleared my sinuses just fine."

"You smell nice."

"I smell like you. Which is nice, I must say," she added and blushed. "Enough with that. What were you saying about your mother?"

"She called not ten minutes ago and said she wants to take us out for dinner if we're feeling up to it."


	73. "Are you upset with me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

These days, alone, a well deserved weekend away, have been odd - days of tentativeness and exploration. Lines were blurred now that they found themselves between friendship and love.

"Are you upset with me?" He asked as he sat down in front of her. "You've been terribly quiet as of late."

"I've been thinking... this whole life, I want more!"

"You know that no one's stopping you, right?" He paused, pouring cereal into his bowl.

"A couple of years, yes. But I can't do this with my life."

"Why not?"

"Responsibilities. Though I am starting to believe that they mean nothing."


	74. "Why did you spare me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Why did you spare me?" she asked, turning around and lighting herself a cigarette.

The alley was dark, but for the dim yellow light of the lamp posts, the first snowflakes covering the ground in a soft, white layer.

"Oh, Fitz begged. He begged!" The woman paused and stepped forwards. "I gave him my word."

"What?"

"A deal, Miss Simmons. If the guns were to be recovered, you would not be harmed in any way. Oh, don't look so surprised! He's soft, just like you, and fell for you for real. It was a residue of sympathy."

"Sympathy?"

"Sentiment, then."


	75. "Please don’t hurt me like this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"Will you say no again?" he asks.

"I don't know. Probably."

Please don’t hurt me like this, he wants to tell her. No, not hurt - mock and make fun. It cost him a lot to say those things and the courage! But there's hardly any malice in her voice, just that familiar cheek, that teasing and playfulness they've shared for such a long time.

Instead, he says, "Well, then-"

"But you will never know."

"Why not?"

"Because you never ask, Fitz." She laughs and he smiles. "So I'm going to ask you instead, Leopold James Fitz will you marry me?"


	76. "I never meant to hurt you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"I never meant to hurt you," she tells him as they walk down Princes Street. "All those years ago, when I told you to leave."

It's a silly thing to think about, sending him away instead of having a normal conversation to make things clear. Too late now, there's no going back to fix the past; No way to reenter the moment and change things, speak up.

"It wasn't because I didn't love you, I did. I- You always said you didn't like it there, it was your chance to finally leave."

"Really, Jemma? You'd have made that life bearable."


	77. "You're special to me."

"You're special to me," he tells her.

It's the closest thing to a love confession that he can come up with but it has to do, it has to be enough. Because how do you tell your best friend in the world that as of late you've started to think that there's more than friendship? That lines got blurred sometime in the past three years? How to do it without ruining everything? Is that possible?

"What I'm trying to say," he pauses and smiles. "Is that I'm going to miss you."

She smiles back."Oh, I'm going to miss you too!"


	78. "I'm going to keep you safe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

She can't hear him, fast asleep as she is - not that it matters.

"I'm going to keep you safe," he whispers.

It's a strange feeling and he's never felt like this before. It's not too late, is it? The Simmons are going to take down hydra in the morning, he's going to go to the graveyard and dig up the stolen guns, send them back to Scotland Yard, back to the Prime Minister. 

He's going to make sure that nothing happens to her: A deal to keep her safe, the chance to have a life. One final act of kindness.


	79. "You're teasing me again..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

"You're teasing me again..."

"How not to?" asks Hunter, "You spend your days talking about her. Jemma this, Jemma that."

Fitz knows, that's the worst part: He hasn't spent a day without thinking of her and her imminent departure. To work in a radio factory of all places, surely she deserved better than that.

"You should tell her, old chap." Hunter sighs and goes on. "You'll never know because you never ask. Just- ask her out for a drink, tell her how you feel..."

"Too bloody late," replies Fitz. "Jemma is leaving, it would be unfair to tell her now."


End file.
